


a kind of ideal contentement

by billspilledquill



Category: The Sorrows Of Young Werther - Goethe
Genre: F/M, Foreshadowing, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene, Pastiche, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-13 21:52:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14756970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billspilledquill/pseuds/billspilledquill
Summary: A new letter was found after Werther’s death.





	a kind of ideal contentement

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh kinda mad that they aren’t any fics about one of the most adapted novel in the 18th century. This scene is set just before charlotte’s decision to push werther away.

 

August 17—

 

Oh, Wilhelm, how does all this pains me! I am no happy man and no man shall be happy again; I can’t give away my mind to madness, to limit is to define, and yet, her adored eyes kept my night sweet. But oh, my dear Wilhelm! You won’t believe what I have did yesterday! Oh, woeful me, oh unhappy Nature!

Before you scold me for my fancies and pretensions, my friend, I there shall declare that I will not apologize for my long and windy sentences, for I trust you enough for you to not lost in my prose or my poetry. How you have laughed at it when I composed one for Lotte’s blue dress— but I am digressing much, I do realize.

Here is the story I have deprived you from and yet dying to tell you, my friend. But be careful, Wilhelm, please bear in mind that you are witnessing a judgment of a sick poor man. Your Werther is much deceased in the mind, for it seems.

Last night, I was at usual at the village with Charlotte and her lovely siblings when Albert turned to us with his usual cold and reserved manner (reserved only for me, I wish, because how would he dare to show even a bit of distain to this angel?) and proceeded to ask me to stay for dinner. I did tried to refuse, out of politeness and such, but mostly for Lotte’s frown beside me, but he twice insist, and I can only submit to his wishes.

Lotte seemed very unsettled by this offering and wished to stay in her room during the dinner. One can grant her everything with her lovely brow and rosy pale lips, I assume. It was my turn to insist on her staying, not less because Albert isn’t very happy neither. She finally won, and retreated to her room, her dress trailing behind like a grand northern princess.

Do I need to tell you how embarrassed and uncomfortable I was at the dinner table? The children were upstairs, and I can see that little boy blinking at me with curiosity and some kind of awe. How these children were my safety line, Wilhelm! I have nothing against Albert, but he was stern with me ever since some shameful incident that I have probably counted to you earlier that month.

Oh, that poor, poor man! I was looking at him, a swelling pity in my dreadful, dreadful heart, and at last I spoke in the dead silence, “Albert? How was the campaign in the city?”

Oh, if you would have seen him, Wilhelm, his hands were even shaking a little bit when he replied resoundingly, “Well, Well, Werther. I never knew you were interested in country matters.” At that, he gave a somewhat stiff laugh and continued, “How are you, my lad?”

We then continued of this topic of our own well-being, something none of us never really cared about, nor a very interesting subject indeed. But we were talking for the sake of talking, and often in that case, no one is really talking to each other, my dear Wilhelm, only the ghastly resemblance of our own composure. But ah, what am I scribbling again? Forgive me, my friend, my mind is, as you see, deeply troubled by the recent events.

We then continued with some more mindless conversations, never crossing the standard of conversation usually reserved for simple acquaintances, until Albert, looking a pale, asked about if I still wished to have a gun. My small smile immediately faltered after that.

“What,” said I, dropping my gaze, “will you still stand by me with arguments against self-slaughter?”

Albert sounded resigned when he said that I should never think about that conversation again, Wilhelm! Oh, how tried I am of this parody of tirade!

I grew angry at that, and said quite petulantly afterwards, “Well, Albert, if so, you think you could stop me from ending this life that is mine own, then? What could the Lord do then? What about Nature indifference of us? There is nothing, Albert—“ I gestured my arms wildly, for I believe that I am mad indeed, “ _nothing_ you can change of me!” I exclaimed, and I have to admit, quite stupidly.

Albert rose from his seat and took my hand gently in his. I shuddered, half in fear and half in shock. I stop recovering myself with my head in my hands, a thing I always do when I am in a great distress—— but you already know that, Wilhelm.

As I said, the motives of Albert doing this were beyond me. I suspect that our friendship is not of country matters, after all. I felt guilty afterwards, Wilhelm, trust me, I do, but his hands were soft, and they reminded me of those of Lotte’s, fair and pilant under his, or mine.

“But take away you, Werther,” he whispered, and spoke with such tenderness that I might thought he went mad, “take away yourself, my friend, it is an abomination! We greatly appreciate your presence here, Werther, you are loved in this house and we would wish you to stay. Do not play with guns like you did that time, you have frightened me by letting me believe that you will really struck a bullet inside your brain! Ah! I can’t even think about it!” He said, closing his eyes for awhile.

Albert’s words were so sincere and full of truth that I remember standing there as if struck by some great blots of lightening. A flow of warmth went through me, and I flushed, pleased by this outburst of sincerity and love from my friend.

After that, we departed, and I still stood here, speechless for a moment. I didn’t say anything, and he neither. We returned to our respective places and the dinner was eaten in a silent room, Lotte’s knitting sounds coming from her room.

Albert is a great friend, Wilhelm, but his eyes bear intensity that I can’t watch. And I remember, when I was eating and looking at his closed off expressions and dropped eyelids, that he is Lotte’s husband as well. Sometimes I forget that, isn’t that silly of me, Wilhelm? I have been silly for a long time, unfortunately. I seem to be forgetting everything now.

Or maybe, by chance, I’m just getting mad, not getting old. 

 

 


End file.
